Death Toll
by jade-fae
Summary: A fun little series in which we kill as many people as possible in as many ways as possible. Good times Right?
1. Stare them down

Sage: Greetings and Salutations peoples of the internet, I am Sage the Dark and welcome to Death Toll.

Sage: The Harry Potter Universe provides so many interesting ways to die, some canon, some fanon, some just completely ridiculous. Our goal with this little series is to kill as many people in as many ways as possible while still being entertaining and not getting kicked off the site.

Jade: Given some of the stuff on this site I really don't think we're in any danger babe.

Sage: Quiet you! Ehem, anyway, our first entry can be found in the ridiculous category but will hopefully not set the tone for the rest of the series, if the author knows what's good for him.

Jade: Threatening the author, yeah that sounds like a good idea, let me know how that works out for ya.

Sage: …, Anyway this is Sage the Dark

Jade: and Jade of the Fae

Sage: saying please enjoy, comments are always welcome

Jade: We like flames to, they fill us with warmth and laughter

Sage: Sigh! Just roll the fic already.

…And Now Our Feature Presentation…

Death Toll  
Stare them down

The dark lord, whose name the sheep of the magical world feared to even speak stared down his nemesis, the boy-who-simply-wouldn't-die. At the dark lord's back his minions stood in silence awaiting their master's word while the boy-who-lived stood alone, no one had his back.

"So" said Voldemort, "At last you have accepted your fate. Finally come to draw your last breath at the feet of the Great Lord Voldemort" he spoke grandiosely.

"I've come to destroy you Tom, for good this time" replied the last Potter stoically.

The dark lord laughed, a wicked mirthless sound that filled even his own minions with dread.

"You stand alone, before me, and pronounce my destruction" said Voldemort wickedly, "Truly, a Gryffindor to the very end."

"More Hufflepuff actually" said Harry.

The dark lord laughed at this pronouncement, "Indeed? Harry Potter you are desperate" he declared, "How then shall I be defeated? What mighty power of Hufflepuff shall be my undoing" he queried mockingly.

"The power Dumbledore always told me you never understood" said Harry pulling a peculiar heart shaped object from his pocket, "the power of love and caring."

Before Voldemort or any of his deatheaters could so much as raise their wands or offer a retort a rainbow appeared before the boy-who-lived and from the prismatic beam appeared seven bears. At least, they resembled bears with their fur and general shape much in the same way a teddy bear resembled a bear. In fact …

"This is your final gambit Potter" sneered Voldemort, not at all impressed by the cuddly cavalry, "you plan to destroy me with teddy bears?"

"Not teddy bears" said Harry, "Care Bears."

"Hello, I'm Tenderheart" said the lead bear, an orange one with a single heart on his white tummy, "Our friend Harry has told us all about you Tom."

Voldemort snarled at the use of his filthy muggle name but wasn't given time to say anything before another of the bears spoke up, this one bright pink with a rainbow on her belly.

"I'm Cheer Bear" she declared, "would you like to be friends?"

Voldemort could only gape in bewilderment. When he had envisioned his final victory over his nemesis, this was not how it had gone.

"I don't think he wants to be friends" said a gloomy looking blue bear with storm clouds of the same color marking his middle.

"You don't think so Grumpy?" said Cheer Bear, a look of bewilderment marring her plush pink features.

"You'll have to forgive Tom" said Harry, "He has an incurable case of the grumps and doesn't understand friendship, love, or caring."

Hearing this, the assembled bears gasped.

"How can someone not understand caring?" asked Cheer Bear.

"Bad childhood" said Harry, "really nothing that can be done for him at this point" he continued offhandedly.

"I don't believe that Harry" declared Tenderheart, "It's never too late to start caring. Care Bears!"

The bears all looked resolved and stepped forward, drawing even with their leader.

"Care Bears, STARE" he cried.

The deatheaters watched in stupefaction as the symbols on the bears stomach glowed before firing multicolored beams of energy. The dark lord, veteran and victor of more than a hundred battles threw up a shield without even blinking. Sadly it did him no good as this was no magic he could shield against but the power of pure concentrated love.

The dark lord gave a clichéd cry of agony as the power of love and caring dissolved the body he had created with his dark and hateful magic, releasing the spirit within which, no longer possessing a strong enough tie to the realm of the living, passed on to its final judgment.

His minions could only look on in horror as their feared leader was destroyed by plush bears and the power of love.

"I think we might have overdone it a little" said a green bear with a four leafed clover on his tummy.

"Maybe" conceded Harry, "but I'm sure he's in a much happier place now."

"You really think so?" said Cheer Bear.

'No chance in hell' thought Harry, though he smiled and nodded.

"And ya know, I don't think Tom was the only one here who could use a little caring" said Harry looking at the assembled deatheaters who looked back in horror, many realizing what was about to happen.

"You mean…" started Tenderheart, turning to look at the frightful crowd starting to cower away.

"Honestly I've never seen a bigger group of sour grapes in all my life. I think the whole lot of them could use a great big hug" said Harry with a smile that sent chills down the spines of the hardened terrorists.

Tenderheart nodded, "Care bears, time to spread some caring."

With this pronouncement the whole crowd turned and fled, screaming in terror, none more loudly than the highly feared Bellatrix Lestrange who looked to be making some sort of speed record while wearing high heeled boots. Harry just watched, a glowing smile on his face, as his new friends went forth to spread their love and caring.

…

Death toll

1 eternally grumpy dark lord

1 highly feared dark minion  
(well what do you expect, running through the woods at night in high heels?)

Final Count: 2

Side note: no other death eaters were killed in the making of this story though more than a few were traumatized for the rest of their lives. (So plush, so huggable, the horror…THE HORROR)

Authors Note: This is my first working series and will hopefully be run on a weekly updated basis. Unlike Not a Crapalogue or In the beginnings these are all edited final drafts so I hope that shows in the quality.

Thanks for reading, and see you next time.


	2. Gas Explosion

Sage: Greetings and Salutations peoples of the internet and welcome once again to Death Toll, the fic where we entertain you with death.

Jade: Ain't we swell?

Sage: Quiet You! Ehem, anyway, todays entry is a fun little fic focusing on Dumbledore.

Jade: Been waitin ta kill him.

Sage: Too true my obnoxious other half. Around here we consider Dumbledore rather high on the list of people needing a good offing, right under Voldemort but just above Snape.

Jade: But it's not enough to just kill him, it has to be entertaining.

Sage: How about gas, gas is entertaining.

Jade: Leave it to a man to say something like that.

Sage: Oh shut up, you laugh harder than I do.

Jade: (Conspicuous silence)

Sage: Anyway, this is Sage the Dark

Jade: And Jade of the Fae

Sage: saying please enjoy, comments are welcome, flames as well

Jade: Yeah, you're about to find out what we do with them too *snort**snicker*

… And Now Our Feature Presentation…  
*This fic brought to you by Habaneros*  
"Habaneros, the gas maker"

Death Toll  
Gas explosion

Habanero peppers were the favorite treat of Fawkes the Phoenix.

(Poot)

No food on earth gave him as much joy as the hot southern delectable.

(Please pass the gas… thank you)

There was however a reason his human didn't often allow him these fiery edibles.

(The sound of cutting cheese)

It wasn't his fault, how could he be to blame for the way his own body betrayed him.

(Ladies and gentlemen, the wind has officially been broken)

… This gas brought to you by Habaneros …

Dumbledore gave an exasperated sigh at the wretched sounds emanating from his familiar's perch.

The door to his office had been of the revolving variety all day as politicians from three different countries came to pester him about the details of the upcoming tournament. Every slimy greasy pandering pinhead who thought his or her opinion needed to be considered had decided that today was the day it needed to be done.

Given the quality of the people roving in and out of his office it was no surprise that it agitated his familiar who had the keenest sense about people Dumbledore had ever seen. It was well after lunch when the tide finally ebbed and he was more than ready for a late repast. First however it was clear his avian companion required a touch of TLC if the way his feathers were all fluffed up was any indication.

Taking a small sack from a special hidden drawer in his desk he removed a single Habanero pepper and offered it to the ruffled phoenix. Fawkes was pleased and Dumbledore was quick to exit, knowing all too well what Habanero's did to his familiar.

Now, given his advanced age we understand it is not uncommon for one to become a little forgetful so it can be excused that he left his office thinking the sack with Fawkes special phoenix treats was stored back in its drawer. After all that's where it always was and he'd been inordinately careful never to leave it out where his fiery familiar could get at it, knowing full well the silly bird would gorge himself on the contents with absolutely no thought to the consequences.

Sadly, Dumbledore's own agitation told and he walked right by the sack, sitting on his desk, without so much as a second glance, relieved to finally be out of his office and away from opinionated self-important imbeciles.

When Dumbledore returned some hours later he discovered an empty sack lying on the floor and Fawkes sitting on his perch trying not to look guilty as sin. He might have gotten away with it too if not for the smell, an odious aroma of rotten eggs mixed with the tear inducing sting of onions and all mixed together with the unmistakable odor of hot, hot peppers.

"Fawkes" snapped Dumbledore.

His humans tone surprised him and the tight sphincter he'd been holding released with the sound of a hundred cheese wheels being cut in tandem. The mournful cry of the phoenix would have made one think the creature was dying as it suffered the sudden and forceful release of gas from its posterior.

Some people might have found the whole thing quite comical. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was not one of those people. The sound of flatulence, phoenix or otherwise, was something the great wizard found absolutely intolerable.

It was something he blamed solely on his brother Aberforth. As a boy Aberforth loved to run up to his older brother and fart in his face. He would then run away cackling like a madman while Albus furiously pursued. To Aberforth this was a delightful game even after Albus caught him and shoved his face in the mud, or a pile of dung, or up the goat's rear that one time.

They had both gotten in trouble for that one.

Aberforth being a very gassy boy had done this often. Not surprisingly Albus had come to resent it. It had been very difficult living in the dormitories for Albus as most boys, even back then, found the sound of breaking wind to be disproportionally hilarious. Albus didn't spend a lot of time in the dorms and of course he'd gotten back at Aberforth, years later. No one knew who had started the rumor about Abe and the goat, no one except Albus.

Unfortunately, starting rumors about his phoenix would be neither productive, nor make him feel better so he gritted his teeth, sat down at his desk, and very pointedly ignored his familiar. He still had work to do like test lighting the goblet of fire, an unfortunate necessity as the goblet hadn't been used in over a century and some concerns had been voiced about how or even if it still functioned.

… Nose to the grindstone …

Albus cringed over the cup as a long, wet poot echoed behind him. Under other circumstances he would have thrown a silencing spell at the gassy goose or at least thrown a bubblehead charm over himself to block out the smell but he couldn't. The goblet of fire was an old and largely unfamiliar artifact and he didn't want to risk contaminating the magic's when he tried to light it.

If he had stopped for a moment to think he might well have realized that lighting it in a room full of phoenix flatulence might well contaminate it in other ways but given the circumstances and his own personal hang ups we understand his normally impeccable thought processes were a bit off.

We also understand why he never considered the possible repercussions of lighting a fire in a room full of gas.

The small flame appeared at the end of his wand which hovered over the rim of the cup.

… Meanwhile …

At different points in the castle and the grounds of Hogwarts, those that had remained after the end of the school year heard a magnificent explosion. Being outside the castle Hagrid was the only one who could actually see it though. The headmaster's tower vanished, replaced by a massive pillar of orangish flame. Hagrid stood stupefied, that is till the smell hit him and he sniffed curiously.

"Smells like aban arrows" he said in his personal vernacular.

…

Death toll:

1 Overreaching old man  
1 Gassy Phoenix  
1 Easily tampered with artifact

Final count: 3

Side note: had to count Fawkes once even though he got better (sort of).

Other Side note: Due to some unknown combination of the magic's involved, Fawkes would forevermore be followed by the wretched stench of sulfur, methane, and habaneros.

Authors Note: The second instalment of Death Toll, you can see I'm playing with irony. Given how the magical world likes to use gas explosions as covers for magical mayhem, I thought it appropriate to kill one of my least favorite wizards with exactly that.

Next week we start on a four part miniseries, Death by dragon, in which I kill each triwizard champion with their respective dragons. Krum will be up first, then Fleur, then Cedric, and rounding off the end will be Harry.

Thanks for reading and see you next time.


	3. First task travesties (Krum)

Sage: Greetings and Salutations peoples of the internet and welcome to the first Death Toll miniseries.

Jade: DRAGONS!

Sage: Ehem, yes well, like she said, dragons. Dragons in Harry Potter unfortunately do not get much screen time.

Jade: THE DRAGONS DEMAND WORSHIP!

Sage: (sigh), In truth, the only time we see much of them is during the first task of the Triwizard tournament and according to canon those wily little wizards (and witch) outsmart their dragons and take the victory.

Jade: LIES CRY THE DRAGONS. LIES!

Sage: So in our little series that will not be the case. We shall delve into the psyche of each champion, discover their reason for doing what they do, grow attached to them as characters…

Jade: And then watch as a dragon kills them dead.

Sage: Basically. First on the docket is Krum, that high flying seeker from Bulgaria that walks kinda like a duck.

Jade: Roast duck, Mmm.

Sage: (sigh again) Anyway, this is Sage the Dark

Jade: And Jade of the Fae

Sage: saying please enjoy our first miniseries and, as always, comments welcome, flames as well

Jade: Just don't be surprised if we flame you back, we's got dragons ya know

… And Now Our Feature Presentation …  
*This fic brought to you by Bob's Dragonbits*  
Official sponsors of the Triwizard tournament

Death Toll  
First task Travesties  
"Krum"

Victor Krum stood before his dragon with stoic reserve. On the outside he appeared cool and collected, everything his multitude of fans in the stands behind him expected. Inside however he was neither calm nor collected.

Victor Krum was not on the whole a very brave man. He had been performing death defying stunts on a broom for years but that was different. Perched on a broom soaring through the air like some mad bird was where he belonged, it was what he was born to do, it was his element. Standing face to face with a living engine of fiery destruction was about as far 'OUT' of his element as he could possibly get.

… How did I ever get here? …

When he had heard about the tournament there had been little doubt in his mind that he would be the one to represent the school. He was Victor Krum after all, famous throughout the magical world, the shining star of Durmstrang. He had read all the relevant literature about tournaments in the past and had nearly pissed himself. A tournament that had more in the way of survivors than winners was not something he had wanted anything to do with.

So why then was he there, staring down one of the most dangerous beasts alive for nothing more than fame (which he already had) and a pittance of gold?

Victor Krum was not on the whole a very brave man and he had never mustered up the courage to tell his headmaster that he would not compete. He knew the nature of the man, knew what he had done, who he had served, and feared what he might do if Victor were to decline the honor of representing Durmstrang.

At the time fear of the unknown was outweighed by fear of the known, after all, the tournament hadn't been seen in over a century, it might well be very different than it had been in those brutal bygone days.

He had been wrong, and as he stared at that mouth full of dagger like teeth he felt nothing but regrets, regrets and more fear than any man could rightly be expected to cope with. Against this fire breathing leviathan, this tank of flesh, his plan seemed poorly thought out at best.

Was this to be his end, murdered by a mad dragon because he had been stupid enough to come within firing range? How he wished he were anywhere else, doing anything else, but he wasn't, and the dragon was waiting.

… Time to die …

He stepped toward his adversary. No one could see the way his wand hand shook as he pointed it and fired off the spell. His opening salvo struck the very center of its head above the brow ridge, the most fortified piece of the skull. The damage was negligible, doing more to anger the beast than actually hurt it.

It roared defiantly, breathing a great gout of flame toward the international Quidditch star. It did the dragon little good since he was still out of range of its attack but that hardly mattered to Krum, he still felt the heat and the fear it inspired.

He froze on the spot, what little courage he had swiftly dying even as the flames did likewise and he once again found himself locked in his opponent's vicious sights.

Panicked he let off the spell again, carelessly throwing it in the right general direction only to be incredibly surprised when the spell hit home right in the creatures eye. The beast began to thrash about madly in pain, Krum was elated. He had done it, he had beaten the dragon, a nightmare come true and he had defeated it.

Confident now with the dragon suitably occupied he dashed for the nest and the prize which awaited him, the golden egg. He had barely laid hands on it when a shadow fell over him and he made the mistake of looking up. The thrashing of the dragon had been so loud that he hadn't registered as it had drawn closer. Still writhing in agony it tripped and he braced himself for the crushing impact.

The sound of breaking eggs shocked him into opening his eyes and what he saw brought a manic smile to his lips. Not an inch from his nose was the back of the dragon as it lay on its side, heaving in pain, having smashed a good half of its eggs in the fall, yet by some miracle missed him.

Krum stood, hefting his golden egg above his head proudly, stepping forward to display it for all his followers in the stands. He had done it, against all odds and his own misgivings he had triumphed. He was on such a high he never heard the rustling or the sudden rush of air that should have warned him his enemy was not through.

The dragon mad with rage and pain still had one good eye and with that eye had seen the filthy egg thief when he stepped out from behind her. Too exhausted to rise she could still breathe and breathe she did, taking in a great gulp of air she expelled a fireball so hot that it turned the flesh of Victor Krum to ash in mere seconds.

The crowd went silent as their hero disappeared within the fiery maelstrom.

The first scream came when the blackened skeleton of Victor Krum appeared through the dying flames and gravity took hold of the remains. The golden egg, glowing hot but still intact, plummeted to the ground and broke open. The wailing shriek from the damaged artifact was followed by similar cries from the audience as dozens of broken hearted little girls wept bitterly as their beautiful idol lay dead before them, a charred heap of blackened bones and ash in the wind.

The dragon handlers who were on hand to prevent such a calamity rushed the weary dragon who, with no fight left to put up, was quickly stunned into unconsciousness.

…

Death toll:

1 International Quidditch Star  
6 Dragons who never got a chance

Final count: 7

Authors Note: Well here we are again. Hoping all my readers enjoyed this look into the psyche of Victor Krum. Too bad he's dead now.

Next week our little miniseries continues with Fleur, that angry Veela girl mad at the world for all the two faced bastards that inhabit it. Don't know what I mean, be back next week and find out..

Thanks for reading and see you next time.


	4. First task travesties (Fleur)

Sage: Greetings and Salutations peoples of the internet and welcome back to the Death Toll miniseries.

Jade: DRAGONS!

Sage: Ehem, yes, what she said. This week we pit the lovely, charming, and very angry Veela champion against her dragon.

Jade: Bitch is gonna get it!

Sage: Really now Jade that was uncalled for.

Jade: (Obstinate silence)

Sage: (Shakes head) anyway, it comes as little surprise that a girl with Fleur Delacour's unique heritage would have some issues. Today we are going to explore those issues and how they affected her choice to participate in our little death game.

Jade: Then we're going to kill her!

Sage: (sigh) yes Jade, then we're going to kill her.

Jade: Good.

Sage: (Shakes head again) This is Sage the Dark

Jade: and Jade of the Fae

Sage: Saying please enjoy First task Travesties, comments always welcome, flames as well

Jade: BURN BABY BURN!

…And Now Our Feature Presentation…  
*This fic brought to you by Madam Mantulas silk boutique*  
Official sponsors of the Triwizard tournament

Death Toll  
First task Travesties  
"Fleur"

She was a beautiful creature, one of nature's great masterpieces. She moved with a fluidity and grace one could not help but watch in awe and wonder. Then she opened her mouth, showing off all those big flesh ripping teeth. Fear and terror replaced awe and wonder with frightening speed.

Fleur Delacour gulped, a very unladylike thing to do but she felt she had the right to it, after all, how many 'ladies' had ever even contemplated what she was about to do? It was in that moment she could not help but wonder 'why did I want to do this again?'

… So sexy, it hurts …

All her life Fleur Delacour had been told how pretty she was. She had been an adorable tyke, the cutest little girl, and a lovely young lady. It was however sometime around the beginning of puberty, when the hormones really kicked in, that praise of her loveliness took on a decidedly less wholesome tone.

She knew what a Veela was of course, her grandmother had done her best to educate little Fleur on the trials her heritage would bring but there was really nothing anyone could have said or done to prepare her for what happened. Practically overnight, she went from the sweet and adorable apple of her father's eye to the slim willowy goddess with supple tantalizing curves and an aura that drove weaker men to drooling at the mere sight of her.

She had only been thirteen at the time and been forced to miss several months of school just so she could learn to get her new allure under some semblance of control. Her papa, bless him, was fortunately immune and was her strong place in those trying times. The Veela was something she inherited from him and it was obvious he felt largely responsible for her hardship.

When at last she was deemed fit to return to school she was confident things would be as she had left them and she would shortly get her life back in order. It almost shattered her fleeting control when she found out this was not to be the case. Even with her allure tamped down men she had known for years stared at her whenever she entered a room, their eyes filled with a lust that sent shivers down her spine and made sure she never went anywhere without her wand.

The females too were changed, their eyes had become cold but their words were colder still. They shunned her, called her horrible things, "attention whore" being one of the more mild. She tried to explain it wasn't her fault, she'd never asked for it, she'd give it up if she could, but they didn't listen, didn't want to listen. Things became very different for her that year and it set a tone for those that were to follow.

… How do you measure a year in life …

As the years went by a powerful resentment grew within the young Veela. Why had this happened to her? What had she ever done to deserve it? These questions plagued her with every lustful stare and icy glare. While her control had improved as she had grown it was too little too late. She had seen the true face of the world and it was an ugly hateful thing.

Still…

In some secret place she never allowed the world to see, that sweet loving little girl she once had been sat, untouched by her resentment, frightened and lonely and yearning desperately for a friend, for even one person to see her for who she truly was and not what her heritage had made her.

She saw that little girl every day in the face of her beloved sister and it was all she could do to keep from weeping. She of all people knew the inevitable fate of that darling child and it tore at her tender heart to know that there was nothing she could do to spare her beloved sister the same fate she had suffered. Her helplessness made her angry and bitter which only added to her ever growing resentment.

When the tournament had been announced by Madam Maxine, Fleur had been strangely optimistic. She had never traveled much and certainly never without her parents. The tournament would provide an opportunity to expand her horizons at last, meet new people who didn't have some preconceived notion of what she should be and maybe, just maybe, allow her to make a friend.

This hope died the second she stepped off the carriage and she saw all those weak-willed hormonal males staring at her like a piece of meat. She could already see the female students growing angry at her mere presence and it took all her years of experience to flawlessly hide her dismay behind a mask of casual disdain.

That then just left the tournament.

She had considered the possible prestige that would come with winning but had been uninterested at the time, being more concerned with personal interests. Now it was the only reason she had left to put up with these stinking foreigners and their ugly freezing castle. Maybe if she beat out the competition it would show all those fools that Fleur Delacour was not just some pretty face, and assorted other parts, for them to stare at.

She had felt mildly happy when her name came out of the Goblet of Fire, but that feeling was smothered under a blanket of fury as soon as she understood why that scrawny boy with the messy hair had joined the champions.

Cedric Diggory she had never heard of but Victor Krum was quite famous and defeating him in the tournament would have been quite the coup. At least until Harry Potter was involved, then the whole thing looked like nothing more than a publicity stunt for Hogwarts and the boy-who-lived regardless of who was ultimately victorious.

While on the outside her comments had been mild and her demeanor annoyed, on the inside she was seething. How dare this little boy, this useless child celebrity, how dare he cheapen this competition by cheating his way in. There was really no doubt in her mind that the boy had cheated to enter. She had seen 'his' type before and given what everyone was saying about him what other conclusion could be drawn.

It never occurred to her that Harry Potter was, much like her, not so much a person to the public as an object to be taken out and stared at. Instead she listened as the mindless hate reinforced her own preconceived notions and never once questioned why someone as famous as Harry Potter would want to ruin his reputation by obviously cheating his way into the tournament.

Then she had learned of the dragons and all else became meaningless. Sure they weren't being asked to slay them per say, though that might have been easier. It wasn't till she was face to face with the beast however that the weight of what she was being told to do really sank in.

'By the stars, why did I think this was a good idea?'

… Feeling hot hot hot …

Utilizing the same mental exercises she had learned to reel in her allure she focused her mind and calmed her erratically thumping heart. If her plan worked the dragon would be absolutely no danger by the time she approached her prize. If not, she would accept the failure and be thankful to have survived.

Her wand moved like an orchestral conductor, weaving the powerful sleeping spell over the dragon which paced anxiously. It became evident that the spell was taking hold when the pacing slowed. The dragons' movements became sluggish, its head dipped as it fought a losing battle to stay awake. At last, unable to win the dragon lay down protectively around its eggs and surrendered to Morpheus.

Fleur watched the dragon for several minutes before lowering her wand and approaching. The dragon's heavy breath was slow, even, and hot. The young Veela tread cautiously, her eyes barely leaving the dragon, coming to a stop just short of the nest which was also bare inches from the beasts head.

Fighting to keep from hyperventilating, she inched forward stopping just within reach of her shining golden prize. Her hands shook as she reached down, grasped the egg, and lifted it from the clutch. Egg in possession, she froze, waiting for any sign from the dragon that her spell had failed. Nothing happened. The dragon gave a mighty sigh then continued its deep restful breathing.

Turning her back on the dragon she took only a single step when it happened. The dragon took a deep breath, its mouth opening, and the extra fuel was sufficient to achieve combustion. It wasn't a large or even highly focused bit of flame but it was enough to light the Veela champion on fire.

Her response to her predicament was less than dignified as she stumbled around trying to both hold the egg and put out her burning cloths. The rock that seemed to appear out of nowhere caught her heel and stole what was left of her dignity as well as her balance. The egg went flying into the air as she tried and failed to catch herself before toppling to the ground.

The craggy uneven earth rose up swiftly to meet her and despite being a featherweight she struck with considerable force. Her head especially took quite the blow, landing on a sharp bit of stone and painfully cracking the back of her skull.

This alone would have been sufficient insult but gravity was not yet done with the unfortunate young woman as her egg, its upward momentum spent, came crashing back down right on top of her beautiful cranium as she tried to rise, slamming mercilessly into her skull with enough force to pop the seal.

The magnificent wail that emanated from the golden artifact proved a crude but effective dragon alarm clock and the audience watched the chaos as the dragon handlers rushed to subdue the panicked beast while keeping it away from the unmoving Beauxbatons champion. In the time it took them to accomplish this task and finally check on the listless damsel however, it was too late. As the pool of blood beneath her head would attest, Fleur Delacour was dead.

…

Death toll:

1 angry teenaged Veela

Final count: 1

Authors note: This one took the most edits to get right, by far. Still, I am content with how it turned out so I can't complain too much.

Hope everyone's enjoying this little miniseries so far, next week is that handsome Hufflepuff who would later become an evil gay vampire, Cedric. I consider this one more of mercy killing than anything else.

Thanks for reading and see you next time.


	5. First task travesties (Cedric)

Sage: Greetings and Salutations peoples of the internet and welcome back to the Death Toll Miniseries.

Jade: DRAGONS!

Sage: indeed, and this week we have that dashing and handsome Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory, to roast on the spit.

Jade: Serves him right, sparkly assed no talent.

Sage: Yes, as you might imagine we don't have a lot of love for the man who would later help ruin the baddass image of one of literature and cinema's greatest monsters, but keep in mind this will in no way shape or form affect the inevitable outcome of this fic. After all, we call it Death Toll for a reason.

Sage: So sit back, relax, and enjoy the carnage. This is Sage the Dark

Jade: and Jade of the Fae

Sage: saying please enjoy First task Travesties, as always comments welcome, flames encouraged.

Jade: We need them to destroy the gay ass vampires.

…And Now Our Feature Presentation…  
*This fic brought to you by Twilight*  
(the time of day not the literary travesty)

Death Toll  
First task Travesties  
"Cedric"

Cedric Diggory was a Hufflepuff. Cedric Diggory was proud to be a Hufflepuff and Hufflepuff was proud to have Cedric Diggory. When Cedric's name had come out of the Goblet of Fire no one had cheered louder than the members of Hufflepuff. When Harry Potter's name had come out none had been more shocked than the members of Hufflepuff.

Like most people living at Hogwarts, Cedric had been watching the infamous boy-who-lived ever since he arrived and, like most people living at Hogwarts, had heard nearly all of the gossip that went floating around about said boy-who-lived. Now Cedric wasn't stupid but at the same time he wasn't terribly bright either, otherwise he'd have been in Ravenclaw, so like far too many people he not only listened to but believed far too much of that gossip.

Nowhere was that more evident than with the latest debacle to befall the "Safest place in Britain". When his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire he had been elated, not just for himself but for his house as a whole. Hufflepuff was the butt of more than a few jokes and this was the chance for the underdog house to really show its stuff, and not just to the other houses but to the world.

Unfortunately it seemed to be some sort of unspoken rule that if something important was going on at Hogwarts Harry Potter would have to be in some way shape or form involved. He had listened to Harry deny the accusations but, like most everyone else in the room, he wasn't really listening. Sure it was all well and good for him to deny entering but the evidence was certainly against him and his history of mischief and rule breaking wasn't making his story any more believable.

When Draco Malfoy had started handing out buttons that declared him, Cedric, the true champion and "Potter stinks" he'd been outwardly disgusted, partly because he felt it drew the wrong sort of attention toward him and partly because it made Hogwarts look bad to the other schools. Harry Potter had been farthest from his thoughts when he asked his housemates not to wear the disgusting badges, not that he was about to admit that to Potter when said boy gave him news of the first task and what it would involve.

In truth the exchange left Cedric incredibly conflicted. The whole time he'd been listening to the gossip and rumor like it were gospel and then in stepped the real Potter acting in complete contradiction to what Cedric thought he should be, giving him valuable information and not even asking for anything in return. If he hadn't been so concerned over that information he might have actually spent some time pondering on the enigma that was Harry Potter.

He didn't though. There was neither time nor place for pondering when the dark shadow of a dragon loomed in his future.

Learning that their first task would involve living breathing engines of fiery destruction requiring dozens of wizards to subdue, he began to understand why the tournament hadn't been held in a century and was only confused as to why in Merlin's name they would bring it back.

Pushing that unhelpful train of thought off the tracks he did what most men do when they have a problem they can't readily solve themselves, he went and found his woman. Cho Chang, upon learning of his impending doom was appropriately distraught and after a half hour of "comforting" she was set and determined to plan his way to victory.

Knowing her boyfriend's strengths better than anyone outside himself and having a fair knowledge about dragons she quickly cobbled together a working plan that would hopefully keep him out of harm's way. It was a loose plan since neither one knew exactly what they were to do with the dragon but it relied mostly on distraction and misdirection which made it very adaptable anyway.

Cedric spent every free moment between then and the first task doing two things, practicing his transfigurations and "comforting" his girlfriend. The second bit he probably could have done a little less of but the truth of the matter was Cho needed "comforting" almost as much as he did. It also helped keep him from second-guessing his sanity at ever having entered the blasted tournament so that was something.

…And the fangirls did squee…

His first thought upon spying his dragon was a firm command to his bladder not to embarrass him. He took several deep breaths, gripped his wand tightly, and strode forth.

The terrain was uneven and rocky, perfect for his strategy. He picked a medium sized protrusion and went to work, shaping and animating a large dog which he then set to drawing the dragon away from her nest.

It was a good strategy, except the mother didn't seem terribly inclined to leave her nest, hovering over her eggs while keeping a sharp eye on the yapping hound. It was clear to Cedric she didn't consider the one dog sufficient threat to chase it away and there was doubtful anything it could do on its own to change that. Transfiguring a second hound, this one slightly larger he set it out to join its fellow bait in drawing the dragon away.

As he watched, the second hound seemed to do the trick as the dragon grew visibly agitated and began to advance on the two transfigured canines, growling and snapping her jaws in an attempt to frighten them off while her tail whipped back and forth angrily.

Carefully keeping his eye on the back of the dragon he crept up to the nest with all the stealth he could muster. Finding his prize was no difficulty, it stood out among the normal dragon eggs like a shining sore thumb. Getting it out however was a bit harder as the golden trophy was quite heavy. He had just lifted it from the nest and was beginning to rise from his crouch when he was promptly knocked off his feet.

His attention had necessarily strayed from the dragon while he was acquiring the egg and in that time he had lost track of the exact location of the dragon and more importantly her tail.

His landing was less than graceful, the egg having risen up as he flew so that his face smashed right into it upon landing. His nose made a painful sound when it broke but he was fortunately saved from hearing an even more painful noise as the egg miraculously remained closed.

The impact left him sprawled across the ground stunned. The world continued to move around him as he tried to fight through the pain and drunkenly stagger to his feet. He had barely accomplished this when something again struck him from behind and he went flailing forward, losing his egg in the process which bounced off out of sight.

More than a little discouraged by being blindsided twice Cedric looked to the side and froze, horrified to see the dismembered head of one of his hounds. This had been what struck him which was important but not as important as what its presence ultimately meant for his strategy, and survival.

With all the speed his aching body could muster he tried again to rise but hadn't even gotten to his knees when a terrific weight slammed down on top of him. With his head turned he could see the dragon towering over him looking both majestic and menacing as only a dragon can. To his shock the dragon wasn't actually looking at him.

Absently the dragon raised her claw from his back and stalked forward, paying no mind to the thing she'd stepped on, and dipped her head down to grab at something. Her head came back up with something in her mouth that caught the light and Cedric realized she had retrieved the egg. Without so much as glancing in his direction she meandered calmly past him, presumably back to her nest, his angle such that he was unable to tell and his pain making it impossible to adjust his angle.

So that was it, he had failed. It wasn't nearly as bad as he had feared, sure he was in an immeasurable amount of pain but he would live, he would heal. He was so busy suffering and thanking his lucky stars he was alive to do so he never even noticed when the dragon returned, towering over him in a way that many would have considered thoughtful.

Finally, its decision made it rose up on its hind legs, taking in a great gulp of air at the same time. A horrified scream came from the audience barely an instant before the dragon fell, opening its mouth and spilling forth a great river of flame which consumed the pride of Hufflepuff before he even realized what was happening.

The entire crowd devolved into chaos as the flames died away revealing nothing but a blackened bit of rock where once had been a handsome Hufflepuff champion. The dragon, her part in an ever growing fiasco complete, sauntered back to her nest and protectively lay down atop her eggs, waiting to see if anything else was going to come along that she needed to turn into greasy stain on the rock.

…

Death Toll:

1 Handsome Hufflepuff  
1 Opportunity to become a gay Vampire (grease stains can't sparkle after all)

Final count: 2

Authors note: Yeah I don't like Twilight. I'm a guy, so sue me. This just leaves one more champion to kill and let me tell you we are gonna kill him good. First task travesties will continue this Friday with Harry after which the author will be taking a break till sometime after Easter. The must has abandoned me so we'll see if she comes back after being stuffed full of Easter chocolate.

Thanks for reading and see you next time.


	6. First task travesties (Harry)

Sage: Greetings and Salutations peoples of the internet and welcome to the final piece of our first Death Toll Miniseries.

Jade: DRAGONS!

Sage: What she said. Bringing up the rear we have that dainty delectable, by dragon standards anyway, Harry Potter.

Jade: The-boy-who-lived-to-be-killed-by-a-dragon.

Sage: That's a lot of dash marks, so you know it has to be good.

Jade: Damn right.

Sage: Well, this is Sage the Dark

Jade: and Jade of the Fae

Sage: saying please enjoy the end of First task Travesties.

…And Now Our Feature Presentation…  
*This fic brought to you by Momma Molly's Bottled Love*  
(Marriage guaranteed or your money back)

Death Toll  
First task Travesties  
"Harry"

Harry stared down at the miniature dragon in his hand and sighed. He had his plan and, if he was being honest with himself, it wasn't a very good one. Sure it was better than nothing and what else was he supposed to do? It's not like there was anything else in the Hogwarts curriculum that was going to save him. When ya got right down to it, the Hogwarts curriculum really hadn't done him much good over the years in dealing with the things that had tried to kill him.

A Troll in his first year set a rather bad precedence. The basilisk in his second continued the trend and upped the ante. A horde of dementors in his third year was an excellent follow up to the basilisk and this wasn't even counting the dark lord and various cursed artifacts. Now he had been forced into a tournament that had historically killed most of its participants, and a fair number of the audience. It was really a marvel he had survived to get this far. And to think people still had the gall to call Hogwarts the safest place in Britain.

'Azkaban was probably safer', thought Harry morosely, then reconsidered, given he personally knew someone who had gotten out.

His survival, which is really all you could call it, had been largely the result of an inordinately long streak of dumb luck. Nothing else could really explain how a barely trained boy could so often walk into situations that would have killed fully trained magical practitioners and still walk out with nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises.

Some days it felt like the universe was just messing with him, drawing out his suffering for its amusement. This of course begged the question, how much longer would it be before it decided he wasn't amusing anymore? How long before his dumb luck wizened up?

… The wait is killing me …

The waiting was always the worst part of these things, he hated the fact that he had to go last. The longer he waited the more time he had to brood and sulk over the injustice of his situation as well as ponder on the ways his plan could fail. Actually it was mostly that last one as he sat and listened to Bagman's running commentary which always cut off right around the end of each event so Harry had no idea what was happening to his fellows.

Not knowing made him more anxious than hearing each and every one of them had been killed in gruesome fashion. At least then he'd have a better idea what his own chances were.

… No plan survives …

As he entered the arena he scanned for the dragon. It was his first up close look at the beast and he momentarily had flashbacks to the last giant creature that had tried to eat him. In truth the basilisk didn't seem so scary now that he'd gotten a look at his dragon.

He had to move quickly as the dragon noticed him almost the same time he noticed her. Dodging a blast of fire he found himself a temporary shelter and summoned his Firebolt. He had a momentary burst of insight and realized he should have hid the thing somewhere nearby so it didn't have to travel so far. Then the moment was over and he was on the move, ducking, dodging, and just trying to avoid the angry mother with the really big teeth.

This was the biggest flaw in his plan. Not the only flaw but certainly the biggest. What was he supposed to do while he waited for his broom to arrive? It may have been better actually that he didn't have a plan at all since it meant he wouldn't have to watch it crash and burn as he ran for his life around the arena. It wasn't a particularly graceful display but that hardly mattered to Harry, it was keeping him alive and one step ahead of the dragon.

At least it was until that one conniving little rock jumped up and tripped him.

The dragon was on him before he ever had a chance to clear his head from the fall. His last thought before being consumed in flame was 'oh look, there it comes' as he caught sight of his Firebolt lazily floating his way…

…oOo…

Jade: What, that's it? LAME!

Sage: True, though you must admit that rock has been rather busy.

Jade: I wanna do over, that was terrible.

Sage: eh, why not.

…oOo…

Just catching himself from what would have been a fatal fall he saw his Firebolt gliding through the sky towards him. Without time to feel relief he looped around the big rock and made a mad dash to his salvation. He could feel the dragon just behind him but didn't dare look back. One bounding leap and he was on, then he was soaring through the air with the broken pieces of a world class racing broom all around him.

The dragon hadn't given him the time he needed to engage his vehicle but instead smashed them both with her vicious spiked tail. Takeoff achieved at least. Harry made good distance and landed on the fence of the enclosure, half in and half out, his spine making a cringe worthy crack.

The audience was dead silent as the limp form of Harry Potter slipped back into the arena and lay there unmoving as the dragon approached with a predatory arrogance...

…oOo…

Jade: Okay, seriously, that was hardly any better.

Sage: Kudos to the dragon though.

Jade: I am not satisfied, and you know what happens when I'm not satisfied.

Sage: (shivers at the memory's) right, let's try again shall we.

…oOo…

The tail seemed to come out of nowhere with blinding speed. It managed to clip him but he was already in motion and managed to avoid the worst of it. Gripping his broomstick like a vice he shot up with every ounce of acceleration he could muster just to put some distance between him and the fire breathing monster. This turned out to be the wrong move as it was exactly what the fire breathing monster had expected. What actually flew into the sky was a burning stick and a badly charred boy clinging to it.

Still alive the boy may have been the broom was not, having most of its control bristles burned off the broom plummeted down right into the dragons gaping maw…

…oOo…

Jade: (fuming quietly)

Sage: try again?

Jade: you're damn right try again.

…oOo…

The glancing blow from the tail threw him off his initial plan which was the only thing that saved him from a fiery death. Darting around the outskirts of the arena he managed to gain some distance before shooting into the air out of fire range. He stopped at what he thought a safe distance to catch his breath only to see the dragon swiftly closing, the chain that had held it within the arena snapped like cheap string.

The youngest seeker in a century sat frozen one moment too long and only started moving again after the fire came blazing his direction. The gout of flame missed him but not his broom. The very tail end charred to coal in seconds stealing the magic of flight from the over-expensive cleaning tool thus sending broom and rider plummeting to the ground. The height wasn't as great as when the dementor's had gotten to him the year before so the old man in the stands didn't have enough time to save his most famous student before he touched down…

…oOo…

Sage: Huh, alright, I think we're gonna stop this before it gets repetitive.

Jade: Pathetic.

Sage: would it make you feel any better if we kill off some more people in the fallout.

Jade: it might.

…oOo…

… The Fallout …

The corpse of Alastor Moody was found the next morning at the foot of the astronomy tower, a near empty bottle of fire whiskey in his hand, its contents mixed within the exploded guts lying all about the dead body. With no heir or anyone to claim his possessions they were all put into storage at Gringotts where they were promptly forgotten as everyone else had far more pressing matters to attend to.

Rita Skeeter exacerbated an already terrible situation with her article the next day, outlining in gruesome detail the death of each champion. She pointed fingers at a multitude of people, from the organizers to the dragon handlers which gave the wizards and witches of Britain more than enough targets for their outrage.

Albus Dumbledore, along with everyone else specifically named in Skeeters article were working very hard not to be lynched for the disaster of a first task that would go down in the books as the shortest Triwizard Tournament ever. Even the famed defeater of Grindelwald couldn't hope to weasel his way out of this one.

Of course there were many less influential people affected as well, not least of which being Cho Chang, girlfriend of the deceased Hufflepuff champion, and Hermione Granger, best friend of the deceased Boy-who-lived. All in all the whole debacle left more than its fair share of sorrow and misery to go around and go around it would.

Death toll:

1 Boy-who-live-to-be-killed-by-a-dragon  
1 Death eater in disguise  
1 Man forgotten in a trunk

Final Count: 4/1 +2

Author's Note: Well that's it for first task travesties. I hope you enjoyed our little dragon feeding show. This will be my last entry for a while, at least until after Easter. The muse is on hiatus and I can't seem to get myself to sit down and write anything. (Sigh). Here's hoping she comes back soon.

Until next time, thanks for reading.


End file.
